


Body and Soul

by idyll



Category: Constantine (2005), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crossover, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-08
Updated: 2007-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:30:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyll/pseuds/idyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blasphemy or epiphany, the line is thin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body and Soul

John Constantine is used to hellfire and brimstone, demons and angels, and the power of faith.

What he's not used to is an alien city on another world in a different dimension, or people who take his sudden appearance from the center of a motherfucking _vortex_ for granted.

But despite all of that, he knows Ronon Dex's slit-eyed stare and quasi-smile, so he looks mostly at that as he's led by gunpoint to an infirmary and probed in ways that make him long for little green men.

*

A year after Gabriel and Mammon didn't bring about the apocalypse, Angela showed up at John's door with a giant in tow.

"This is Ronon," she said, looking small and elegant next to the dreads, leather and ferocious scowl. "He'll be staying with you for a while.

John argued, of course he did, but Angela had become fervent and dedicated to the "mission" and liked to take off her Trinity knot triquetra just for the _fun of it_, so of course she'd had a vision about this guy.

"He's not from here," she told John with a creepy serenity that reminded him of Gabriel. "You need to keep him safe."

She didn't mention alternate universes; that was Ronon.

*

Later, in empty quarters with cameras recording and guards outside, Ronon says, "There's no time" in a voice like a living regret. "They studied what happened with me. They know how to get you back."

John says, "Okay, fine" and pushes Ronon against a wall. They undress fast and dirty, their tongues sliding together wetly, and when they're naked Ronon pushes John onto a bed and follows him down.

Ronon covers him like a blanket, and John's skin is practically singing, touch-starved and hidden as it normally is. A few delicious slides of Ronon's hips and then he's moving, straddling John and reaching behind himself with a hand that's already wet and coating John's cock. John opens his mouth to protest but Ronon snarls at him.

"No _time_!"

When Ronon sinks down he's hard and tight around John's dick, and John sees white and wonders if the hallowed glow he's seeing is blasphemy or epiphany.

Before Ronon gets a chance to lift up just once, John rolls them and pulls out.

 

*

"Isn't there faith where you come from?" John asked the first time Ronon saw him deport a halfbreed.

"Not like this," Ronon said, disturbed and uncomfortable.

*

John finds the container of lube tangled in the rucked up sheets and coats Ronon's fingers again, brings them between his legs and smirks at Ronon's look of surprise.

"Oh, like you never wanted to," he snarks, and Ronon's lips curl the same instant that he _pushes_ his fingers in.

*

The first time John fucked Ronon he dipped a crucifix in holy water, pressed it to Ronon's back, and didn't take it away until they were done.

He did it the fifth, twentieth and sixtieth times, too.

*

John hasn't been fucked in years, not since Midnite decided he was too arrogant and foolhardy to continue messing around with, and when Ronon slides in--thick and long and all-encompassing--he remembers why he never let anyone else do it.

Blasphemy or epiphany, the line is thin and seems unimportant in the moment, and John can only hope that he's not truly on the wrong side of it, but he doesn't think he is because this--

This is the communion of body and soul, this is Ronon's fierce primal physicality, and John's knowledge, mated and made into belief and faith, and John understands Gabriel, and Angela, and Midnite, and even _himself_ in ways he never has before.

"Oh," John breathes like revelation, and Ronon stills the same time that the world does and breathes, "_Constantine._"

*

Angela brought them a triquetra not long before Midnite found the incantation that took Ronon home. "A Carolingian Cross," John said when he saw it.

"Watch," Angela said, and she twisted her fingers and it came apart, separating into two identical halves. She threaded each half through a chain and handed one each to Ronon and John. "Wear them. It's important."

"Is this titanium or something?" John asked when the light hit his half and reflected off it in a spectrum of colors he didn't know.

"Or something," Angela drawled softly.

*

Only a few hours after John arrives on Atlantis he's led to a lab and asked if he's ready to go home.

"Yeah, just." John shrugs, then he and Ronon step away from the others.

"Keep it on," Ronon says, voice like a subtle bass, and nudges John's half of the triquetra where it rests in the hollow of his throat.

"You too," John says and touches Ronon's half, which is hanging from one of his dreads.

*

"This is not the end," Midnite told him over rum in the dim hours of the morning, right after Ronon had left in a swirl of light and wind.

"Kinda seems that way to me," John snapped and poured himself a shot.

Midnite smiled, bright and white, and flicked a spray of spirits at John. "Still so arrogant and stubborn, John Constantine. Trust me."

*

Midnite is waiting in the alley when John returns by way of yet another vortex. "Told you so. Drink."

John takes the proffered bottle and lets Midnite pull him to his feet. "Yeah, yeah, so you were right," he says around the rum, and smirks at Midnite's indignant huff.

*

.End


End file.
